


Only With More Clarity

by Dean (pretentioys)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: All Relationships Listed Are Planned For Future Chapters, Alternate Origin Story, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Maybe I'll Have a Better Description One Day, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Dragon Age: Origins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:51:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14284323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretentioys/pseuds/Dean
Summary: Not long after the disappearance of Fenrie Mahariel, the Hero of Ferelden, all eyes are on Kirkwall. With great expectations placed on her, Dimitria Hawke must confront the guilt from her past as she picks up the pieces of her former life in the Free Marches.The story encompasses before and during Dragon Age: Origins before centering on Dragon Age II with minor canon divergence.





	Only With More Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> i will be rewriting and continuing this story in may once i am done with university thanks

“I’ll have the thirty gold for you in a fortnight, promise!” the scruffy dwarf assured, keeping the man and his knife at bay with his shield. Specifically, far enough away from throat-cutting distance.

 “Not blightin’ good enough, Gegrin,” the man growled. He bore the accent of the Free Marches, out of place for the middle of Ferelden, “I want that thirty gold with interest now or you’re dead.”

“Listen to reason,” Gegrin smiled, tentatively, “do you really want my death on your conscience?”

“I don’t give a shit about your life," the man shook his head, laughing, he threateningly dashed his knife to punctuate his point, "I would love to end it actually." 

“It’s not your conscience, I mean,” Gegrin grit his teeth, glaring up at the ceiling.

This provoked the man to push his knife down even further towards the black-haired dwarf as he could manage, despite the shield, “what the fuck are you looking at?”

Above them, a young human girl, a blade sheathed in her belt loop, hung in the rafters, lying in wait. Whenever debt collectors came to collect, Dimitria was supposed to ‘get up high and stay fucking put’ as Gegrin had once put it. Well, he had put it a tad more colorfully than that. Anyway, that was the plan of his. _Unless_ he said that specific word, ‘conscience’.

On cue, Dimitria slammed down on the ground, bracing her knees and hands. She stood just behind the dwarf, pulling out the blade in flourish like she’d practiced. It was enough to draw the man’s attention off Gegrin.

The Marcher glared, “who the fuck are you?”

“Your conscience,” Dimitria supplied, gleefully. Honestly, she had originally thought Gegrin's secret word to be kind of stupid, but it actually worked. 

With the heat pulled off him, Gegrin was able to side-sweep the taller man’s legs, sending him sprawling on the ground. The Marcher grunted, twisting himself to get back up, but Dimitria already held a blade to his throat. A grin played out on Dimitria’s face far too easily.   
  
She asked, “should I kill him, boss?”

“No,” Gegrin snapped immediately. Dimitria flinched. The way he sounded always did that to her. The strain in his voice he always got when he had more to say than social graces allowed, “this is why you’re never gonna be a good fighter. You’re too eager to spill any blood regardless of consequence. Have more control over yourself.”

Dimitra was shaken from the lecture, but she maintained strict control of her blade over the debtor’s throat, backing down, “Sorry, Gegrin.”

Gegrin held her in warning glare for another moment before he turned his attention back to the debtor, “now then, are you ready to accept _my terms_ , Meeran?”

“Fuck you,” the man spat on Gegrin's boots instead.

"Wrong answer," the dwarf smirked. Giving the Marcher a well-earned kick to the stomach, he was prepared to keep at it if Meeran didn't get how serious he was. Dimitria pulled the blade away slightly so the debtor didn’t prematurely slice his own throat from the impact. As soon as the hurt man recovered, the blade returned to its original place.

“Listen, _serah_ ,” Gegrin mocked the man’s accent, leaning over him, “you’re gonna take get collect forty-five gold pieces in two weeks, nothing more, sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me? You don't think so? Think about it like this, you'll be able to head back to Kirkwall with a spring in your step ‘cuz you weren't bled out like a pig by a little girl AND you got your money with interest.”

Dimitria glared at Gegrin for using her as an insult but kept her mouth shut.

There was a beat as Gegrin and Dimitria waited expectantly for Meeran. 

The Marcher only laughed, “you think an extra five gold’s gonna keep me happy? You Fereldens are so stupid. Since you can spare a measly extra five, I’ll take sixty.” 

Dimitria wondered how in Andraste the man could even remain so brave with a serrated blade inches from his throat. 

Meeran and Gegrin held each other’s eye contact for a good moment before the dwarf countered, “fifty.”

"What?" Dimitria grunted, “why are even negotiating with him? We don’t have to pay him anything! We have him literally by the throat. By the Maker, _he should be paying us_.”

At the second disruption, Gegrin stepped towards Dimitria aggressively, “Shut your mouth, kid. You have no idea what this is really about. We can’t kill him.”

“Better hear him out, girlie,” the Marcher added on.

“What?” Dimitria squinted, grip tightening around the base of the blade.

“ _He_ ,” Gegrin pointed towards the Marcher, “is a part of the Red Irons. And I know you haven’t been in the Free Marches for awhile, sweetie, so I’ll remind you, but they’re the kind of guys you don’t want a blood debt for! They hate being crossed and will make us pay for his life back in spades.”

Dimitria stared at Gegrin, hard, “how am I supposed to know this if you never tell me this shit up front?”

It was rare for Dimitria to actually fight with Gegrin on things like this. Usually, she could put up and shut up pretty well. It left him stable and her unwelted for another day. However, she couldn't stand it at that moment. 

The dwarf frowned at Dimitria’s backtalk, “You’re going to regret that later.”

Dimitria resisted the reflex to crack under Gegrin’s threat, knowing he was good for it, but she would brave it anyway. Opening her mouth to challenge him again, “you- ah!”

In their disagreement, the Marcher had taken the chance to sit up and wrench the blade from Dimitria’s smaller hand. It was easy when he had about a hundred and fifty pounds on the waif of a girl and the strength that it came with. He ended up busting her in the face with the butt of the sword, knocking her onto the wood flooring. 

Dimitria scrambled away quickly, avoiding the Marcher’s reach. He gladly let her go as he turned the blade back on Gegrin, “you’re gonna pay me fifteen gold up front. The rest of that fifty in two weeks.”

Gegrin grit his teeth, stretching his neck uncomfortably to avoid the serrated edge of the blade, “Listen, Meeran, I’d love to, but I don’t have that kind of money on hand. Have you seen the place?” He gestured around his hovel. It was never meant to be permanent for him. Just a safehouse whenever they needed to lay low, but his gamble of staying for longer was proving to be a bad bet. 

“You’re stalling,” Meeran noted.

“No, I,” Gegrin began to shake his head until he remembered there was a blade ghosting his neck, speaking fast, “I have a better deal for you. I’ll pay you sixty in two _and half_ weeks-”

“Doesn’t sound like a sweeter deal, Gegrin,” Meeran glared.

“Let me finish!” Gegrin almost begged. 

Meeran pushed the blade into Gegrin's collarbone, thinly slicing at the skin there, "Go on then."

Gegrin hissed, but go it out quickly, “I’ll let you have the girl if you give me the time.”

“What?” Dimitria yelled at that. Up until that point, she had been slowly inching towards Meeran’s abandoned knife. Both the men’s attention was back on her. She felt her heart drop to her stomach as she pulled her hand away from the reaching for the knife. 

Meeran looked between Gegrin and Dimitria suspiciously, trying to decide if there was pulling something on him again. After some thought,  he repositioned the blade towards Dimitria, daring her to even try to move again.

“And _what_ would I do with her exactly, dwarf?” the man ventured, eyeing Dimitria up and down. She felt a dizzying sickness, panic clawing itself up into her chest and throat. The girl was shaking.

“What are you doing, Gegrin?” her voice trembled, her eyes searching his expression for some sort of hint that it was just another clever way to get out this sticky situation. 

“If you had learned to shut the fuck up for once, kid...  You ran out my patience,” Gegrin threw an icy look her way.

“Gegrin, answer me,” Meeran spoke again, glaring at the dwarf.     

  
“Take her with you, fuck her, kill her, whatever you want, I don’t really care. Just don’t do it here or in this town and wait until the two and a half weeks are up. I need her well enough to make us money, “ Gegrin spat, not sparing another glance to Dimitria at all, “ _do we have a deal or not_?”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! this is the first time I have been motivated to write in a long while, so expect updates soon. feedback's appreciated. 
> 
> I will post a longer update later in a day most likely.


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